Book 1 Website Chapters 1-2

untamed. His brows lift

untamed. His brows lift and run my length. “Hello Love. My, you light up the room,” he shrouds, invincible. My stomach knots, I look away, swallow. Navy distracts, “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things. This is bloody waste of my time. I’m not interested. This is your deal.” He chafes, looks at his watch. “I’ll stay for the real estate meeting; not the other. I’ve bumped someone off the 11:40.” “LR, I have a good feeling on this. Let Charlotte handle the other details.” “She’s useless,” Navy’s contempt boils. “Three times in this bloody city this year. I’ll never do business with that gaumless, venal, mendacious,” a lottery of words awaits the pull of the slot machine, but he lands on, “idiot. He’s an imperious, arrogant plebian. You deal with this fiasco of yours.” “With all due respect LR, this one is for you. It’s an innovative approach; certainly, one that Long never would have seen.” Grey straightens slightly, “It peeked my curiosity and given your ingenuity, well, California went superbly.” Grey slaps Navy’s back, “You are my hero mate, you are my hero. Now then, Sloane called. She’s arranged an extraordinary weekend for Newmarket. She rang to make sure you’ll be there.” A customer pulls napkins from the dispenser. Irritated, Navy leans out of line and straightens the holder and those to each side. “The hotel's rubbish bin is better than this soot-filled ...” he shakes his head at Alison, “What in the bloody hell is taking her so long, trips to the slaughterhouse? Good God, I could have had breakfast flown in from the Hix.” The Rules of Life by Melissa Abbott-Cooke. Contact: Melissa@therulesoflifebook.com 615-669-5643 18

“My, you get yourself worked up mate. I’m going to chat with our new friends,” Grey winks to me, then saunters to the Queens and worker bees at the pastry counter. Alison straightens her uniform, licks her lips. Her eyes dart to Navy’s left hand, to the register. Her freckled cheeks ignite. “Good morning, Sir,” she swallows, “um, what can I get for you please, Sir?” Navy snaps, “English Breakfast tea, two eggs over easy, sausage and toast.” He reaches in his back pocket; I look away. The swarm of ladies blush then return their attention to the grey beekeeper. Alison dashes looks to Navy, “Um Sir, what um, what kind of bread, Sir?” “Whole wheat.” He retorts, flat, dry and dismissive. “Um, I’m sorry Sir, we’re, well, we’re out of whole wheat, Sir.” “Then why did you ask, Alison?” Navy’s color rises. “Let's approach more simply, what kind of bread do you have? “ “Sir, I’m so sorry. We have white, raisin and, um, um, pumpernickel.” “White then or will we need to wait for the local harvest from the wheat fields?” Navy aligns the penholder, sweeps away the crumbs. Shamed, I hide my smile; offer a psychic apology to Alison. “Yes, Sir. I mean, no Sir, we have plenty.” Navy then commands the grey beekeeper, like a childhood friend “T. Do you mind? The chickens have just laid their eggs, it’s now or never.” The beekeeper gestures to his hive and turns, Alison’s eyes relax. The Rules of Life by Melissa Abbott-Cooke. Contact: Melissa@therulesoflifebook.com 615-669-5643 19